


Past's Presence

by Mendeia



Category: Mummies Alive
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Sleeping!Presley, Teacher!Rath
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-05-18
Updated: 2007-05-18
Packaged: 2017-11-26 00:37:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/644634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mendeia/pseuds/Mendeia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oneshot. Rath considers the differences between Prince Rapses and Presley and how things have changed for himself as well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Past's Presence

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by my recent "Mummies Alive!" marathon as I was beefing up on my details for my "Chosen Obligations" fic. We all know how close Ja-Kal and Presley are, but I think there's a hidden relationship between Rath and Presley as well. The fight with Chontra I'm referring to below is from the episode "Eye of the Beholder."
> 
> I don't own "Mummies Alive!" or any of the characters mentioned herein. They are owned (and highly unappreciated) by DIC.
> 
> Enjoy!

Sometimes the past never dies.

Of course, considering that Rath was, himself, an undead mummy, this should not have been a surprise anymore. But still he was often struck by the parallels of history, and the vastly significant differences between "then" and "now."

Walking around the scroll-littered table, he considered the sleeping boy before him. Tousled brown hair hung clumsily across a face whose features were out of place in the modern world. They were strong and sharp, some would say classic or archaic; at least, they would be when worn on one no longer a boy. It was a face that, upon reaching manhood, would be both commanding and noble, but for now appeared eager and intelligent. And asleep.

"I know we've done this before," Rath thought to himself amusedly. The scene was an image from 3,500 years in the past, with the exception of the boy's garments and Rath's own appearance. The young prince slept through his lessons now as he had then, curled slightly into the chair, propping himself on an elbow. His expression was relaxed, peaceful, and utterly typical of any bored and exhausted twelve-year-old drowsing in class.

"I could wake him again," the snake-avatar considered as he leaned on the table that had divided them, looking through piercing green eyes at his slumbering pupil. He remembered with a small smile how Prince Rapses had jumped out of his chair when Rath, a stiffer and more formal individual than he was now, had shouted into his ear, startling him to wakefulness. It was a prank worthy of Nefertina, Rath thought comfortably: effective, satisfying, and just a little childish.

But the guardian and teacher knew that this time could be nothing like the previous life of the soul within Presley. The world had changed, the boy had changed, and he, Rath, had changed. While similar, history would not repeat itself exactly.

"In Egypt, Prince Rapses was my pharaoh and student. And when I was his guardian and perhaps a friend then, I never let myself get close to him. I was still heartsick over Chontra and I had no wish to give my feelings away to another."

The thought spurred memories of Chontra's multiple returns to the modern world and her insane desire to seek revenge upon her former instructor. So beautiful once, her loveliness had been twisted by greed and violence and arrogance; she was sinister rather than attractive now. But even so changed she was no less dangerous. Rath's best student, the woman defied all reason and safety in her willingness to achieve power, and revenge, at any cost.

"I was a fool then for not seeing her as she really was," Rath berated himself. "I was so astounded with her gifts for magic I failed to notice all that she lacked, including compassion and gentleness. The summons from the pharaoh to teach Prince Rapses was a burden then, as I thought I was leaving one I cared for, but I now see it as a stroke of good fortune. Had I not been pulled from her then, I may have been drawn even farther under her spell."

Presley shifted in his sleep, half-snoring as he did so. Rath knew he ought to wake the boy and continue the lesson, but he could not bring himself to do it. So hectic was the prince's life between school, lessons with his guardians, attacks by Scarab, and trying to have fun like any boy his age, sleep was often neglected. Everyone, Ja-Kal, Nefertina, Armon, and Rath, worried for their young ward, but none could truly bring themselves to lessen his load. He needed the study, both at school and the Sphinx, and there was little they could do about Scarab. And they could not confine the boy to a life not of his own choosing as they had in ancient Egypt eons ago.

"He may carry the spirit of Rapses," Rath considered, "but our young prince is more vibrant and alive than his previous incarnation ever was. The son of Amenhotep knew from birth that he was a king, and that knowledge jaded him against the simpler joys of life. But Presley never knew how special he was, and so has had the chance to live a life much more fulfilling and independent than Rapses ever did."

A pang went through his ancient heart then, and Rath closed his eyes on the memories of that last day in Egypt so long ago. The lesson, the panicked summons that Prince Rapses was missing, Ja-Kal's single-minded and almost inhuman focus on tracking the trail of whoever had taken him, the fight for all their lives...

"Ra above! The moment we reached the hill and saw Scarab holding the prince in the act of killing him, I thought for sure we would all go mad. Never have I experienced such profound rage. We became true berserkers, lashing out with a fury beyond our comprehension, more desperate than any caged animal to reach our charge in time. Never had I been so afraid before, or since. But I fear to think we knew, deep down, that we had failed even before it was over."

Rath suppressed a shudder. The battle was all a blur in his memory, all but the end. The guardians had become separated, each battling towards Prince Rapses from somewhere in the fray. Rath had lost track of the others, but all at once he found himself drawing near where Scarab stood. And there, in the desert sand, lay the prince, dead.

"I never heard the Shabti coming, never saw the blow," the snake-avatar admitted to himself. "I only saw the prince's face and then all was darkness. We slept for eons, but I only ever had one dream that repeated itself again and again: that moment when I looked upon the death of Prince Rapses."

Presley snored again, breaking a grateful Rath out of his memories. The boy was slumped even more now, practically hanging off the chair in his exhaustion. With a delicacy usually reserved for mixing potions or mending a wound, the usually-stoic guardian gently lifted and settled his ward's head against the back of the chair, giving his neck and body a better position to rest in without causing stiffness or pain. His had brushed the brown hair and he settled his palm a moment upon the prince's head.

"It was bad enough the first time to see the poor prince dead," Rath thought with deep sorrow, "but were history to repeat itself it would be far, far worse. Then, though I cared for the boy and was duty-bound to him, it was not as it is now in me."

Again Chontra leapt into Rath's mind, the time when she had tricked Presley into following her in the guise of Ja-Kal and held him captive to force a confrontation with her former instructor. Rath had come, knowing in his heart that she would kill the prince just to see the look on his face. In truth, the snake-avatar feared Chontra more than Scarab; the one who had killed Rapses the first time needed his soul, and thus its carrier, alive and unharmed. Chontra had no real need for the prince and would have taken great pleasure seeing Rath's pain if he died again.

"She mocked me, asked if I cared for the boy. I had not really considered it before, but what I told her was true. I never loved Prince Rapses; he was royalty and I merely his guardian. But Presley I love as a son, and guarding him is no longer a sworn duty, but a need of my own. I cannot but protect the boy, for my own heart is bound up in him."

Stepping back and looking at the slumbering boy, Rath remembered the desperation with which he had set the prince free and tried to get him to safety. Weakened and hurt from Chontra's attacks, he was vulnerable and his boy in great danger. It was only with the grace of the gods that the others had arrived in time to see Presley to safety and together had defeated her.

"But after she was gone again, then we all did a little soul-searching. Ja-Kal had been tormented with the image of his wife, Nefertina with an old friend, and Armon with his mother. All of them were suddenly confronted with their pasts, with ghosts from their memories. I alone was left to contend with the present."

The next day had been so quiet, each of the guardians going about their duties lost in thought. Rath knew that Ja-Kal took the reminder of his past the hardest; of all the mummies, the falcon most resented his duty because of what it claimed from his life. Nefertina was much happier in the modern world where she could do her duty as the person she really was, although her experiences with Pep left her also bitter about the sacrifice made for the prince. Armon, being Armon, was happy anywhere there was food, and his simplistic acceptance of their situation was a solid comfort.

"And I..." Rath thought to himself, "I am intrigued by this new world, by the wonders mankind has produced in 3,500 years. I had no life to leave behind me, only my studies and my teaching, and these I continue now. Even strange or disquieting as this new world may be, I do not feel that I have lost anything. Indeed, I have gained more than I ever had before."

It was true. Rath knew down to his very soul that his reawakened life in San Francisco was richer, deeper, fuller than his mere existence had ever been before. He had the total freedom to explore his magic and the powers of Ra without being suspected of evildoing by over-anxious priests or others of the superstitious Egyptian world. He lived with arguably the best three people he had ever known, and found himself seeing them all more as family than a company of guardians or friends, in spite of how frequently they all got on each others' nerves. He still had the honor and duty to teach magic to an eager and intelligent student. And above all that, there was a boy in his life that made it worthwhile.

"If I had ever had a son, I would have wanted him to be everything that Presley is, and still our young prince outshines even my expectations and hopes: courageous, wise, loyal, quick to solve problems with his mind rather than his fists, and with a heart of the best intentions and feelings. He is truly worthy of the spirit he carries. He will never fully understand how special he is, or how much he means to all of us. But he doesn't need to; he's just a boy with some over-protective guardians who, quietly, love him very much."

Watching the boy-prince sleep, Rath smiled gently, his usually severe face suddenly kind.

"But whether I love him as a son or not, it is time to resume our lessons." His face quirked and a mischievous light danced in Rath's eyes as he leaned quite close to Presley's relaxed face and took a deep, full breath.

"ARISE, PRINCE OF EGYPT!" he bellowed at the top of his lungs.

"Aahh!" the prince cried in surprise as he jumped several inches into the air, fell out of his chair, and bounced to his feet in the span of a few heartbeats. The usually-reserved guardian felt great satisfaction at repeating the prank from so long ago. Staring at Rath, breathing heavily from shock at being so abruptly pulled out of his dreams, Presley began to laugh.

"Don't do that again, Rath! What if the others had seen that? I'd never live it down!" he grinned good-naturedly. Unlike his predecessor, the modern reincarnation's sense of humor won out over either childish petulance or embarrassment; he knew a joke when he saw it and he held no grudges for being properly chastised.

"Then do not fall asleep at lessons again, my young prince," the snake-avatar replied, hiding his smile and attempting to sound severe. The differences between the previous Rapses and Presley only endeared him to Rath more than ever. He could never admit it, but this boy had filled his heart as his previous royal student could never have done. As the young prince resettled himself on the chair, endeavoring to pay better attention this time, his instructor smiled inwardly, thinking to himself.

"The past may not die, but indeed it does not always repeat itself, as they say. Sometimes," and his heart swelled again even as he resumed the interrupted schooling, "sometimes it improves upon itself."


End file.
